


Forduary 2018

by KainichivonDiamond



Series: Gravity Falls Monthly Challenges [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff and Angst, Forduary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 07:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13542795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KainichivonDiamond/pseuds/KainichivonDiamond
Summary: My entries for Forduary, each focusing on a different major relationship in Ford's life.





	1. Childhood

Ford misses being a kid sometimes; what person didn’t as life went on? He worked not to let nostalgia blind him too much, of course. He knows his childhood wasn't all sunshine and roses. He remembers the bullies, the beatings and the taunts, the burning shame he felt for the longest time due to the number of fingers he had been born with. He remembers the pressure of his father’s expectations for his grades, for his boxing, for his life. He remembers thinking that his ma, for as much as he knew she loved him, always secretly liked Stan more than him. But Ford hadn’t minded so much, because he’d liked Stan more than anyone in their family for their entire childhood. Stan wasn’t just his brother, wasn’t just his twin, he was his best friend. And that’s what he missed, really. Having a best friend like that.

They’d fought as kids, of course. No brothers in existence had been able to resist pushing buttons. Sometimes Stan would hit too hard or Ford would joke too mean. Sometimes they’d scream and break each other’s toys and say all the mean things the kids at school would say. Sometimes they’d take turns sleeping on the floor of Shermie’s room to avoid each other. Stan would hang up sheets along the bottom bunk to make a Fort Stanley for himself, not a Fort Stan for them to share. Ford would sit and read in the shop all day, knowing Stan couldn’t stand being in there for too long before yelling and getting kicked out by their father.

But it was an inevitably that they would make up. They weren’t just brothers; after all, they were best friends, the only friend the other had in the world. Usually they’d just start playing a new game like nothing had happened. If the fight was particularly bad and Ford felt particularly guilty, he would leave a bag of toffee peanuts on Stan’s bed or maybe Stan would leave a drawing of a new monster in one of Ford’s books. An apology without words. Good enough for two little boys that just wanted to play and be friends again.

Ford thinks about those little boys sometimes, with their peeling sunburns and delusions that their broken down boat could ever survive the sea. He thinks about games played in the sand where they followed monster tracks that they both pretended Stan hadn’t made while Ford had been distracted. He thinks about crying because some bully had called him a freak and Stan running to punch them. He thinks about hitting Stan’s smaller hand with his while echoing his call for a high six. He thinks about how badly he misses that while sitting alone in his dorm, while struggling to solve the mysteries of the town he’s made his home, while waiting for Cipher’s bounty hunters to leave the abandoned sector he’s hiding in.

Then he thinks about a broken machine and the anger comes back. The betrayal of not just his brother, but his best friend. He thinks about the college he’ll never attend because Stanley was selfish and stupid. Because he didn’t understand. He thinks about the home he’d lost after Stan pushed him, because he didn’t see how important Ford’s work was. Because he didn't understand. He thinks about the grief of all the lives his brother cost him and he mourns himself.

But still he thinks about those little boys. He thinks about yelling at Fiddleford for eating the unopened bag of toffee peanuts that had sat in his desk drawer for months after he bought it without thinking in college. He thinks about every time he had opened a book with a vague hope in the back of his mind that there would be a lopsided drawing on notebook paper hidden inside. He thinks about finally asking their mother to stop telling him that Stanley had called because it made the thoughts come more often and more painfully. He thinks about the photo that he’s held onto across states, across dimensions, of those stupid little boys that always smelled of salt no matter how much they showered. He thinks of Fort Stan when he builds a makeshift shelter from the liquid metal rain of dimension 623¿. Nothing feels as big or as safe as those cardboard boxes and sofa cushions had. He doesn’t miss Stan, he tells himself. He misses being a clueless kid with a best friend. 

Fiddleford was a good friend, the best and only he’d ever had outside of Stan in their home dimension. They played games of graph paper and dice together in their dorm; they talked about science and the future. Fiddleford talked about the girlfriend that he loved in college, then the wife and son that he missed in Gravity Falls. He talked gibberish after seeing a glimpse of what Bill had in store for their world. Then he talked about nothing, at least not to Ford.

Ford never learned how to apologize to someone. If it was his dad, he just had to stare at his shoes and say the words punctuated with the title sir. His ma just needed a kiss on the cheek and a promise to do better next time. But Stan had never needed words. Just a bag of his favorite snack and maybe a punch to the arm and it was like it never happened. It had been easy.

He thinks about those little boys while he takes the portal apart beneath the feet of his family. He thinks about the framed picture of them that sat in the control room, hidden behind cracked glass and a photo of the new Pines twins. There are several bags of toffee peanuts in the kitchen cabinets; it would be so easy to take one and leave it in Stan’s chair. Would that still work? Did that count anymore? How much of the little boy that had made monster tracks in the sand was left? How much of the boy that had followed them was left?

He’s still angry, still bitter; he’s not ready to forgive Stan, not yet. But he thinks about it. More often now that he sees his brother every day and they live in the same house for the first time in forty years. He thinks about it when he misses those little boys, when he misses being one of them.

He thinks about the feeling of someone slapping his hand while they cheered their last name and his heart aches. When it felt like they were going to rule the world together. He misses having a best friend in a brother. Having someone that would have your back no matter what because they were family, because they were your best friend. Most of all he misses the ease that forgiveness came with back then. Just a bag of snacks, just a drawing in a book, just an arm slung over the shoulders and a ‘what’s the plan for today’ like nothing had been wrong in the first place. Just two boys on a boat that they’d found and claimed like their own personal slice of the world. Who knew what the future held with a certainty that there was no need to question, no need to doubt. It was all theirs for the taking and they’d take it together.

He misses being a kid sometimes.


	2. College

“It's a hard choice to make by any stretch.” Ford says without looking up from the pile of brochures that cover the surface of the desk. He glances over at the trashcan where another brochure has been wadded up but has unfurled enough to show the words West Coast. It's an old pain that he's 99.9% over but the sight of it still stings. So he pulls his eyes away to instead look at where his nephew is seated on the edge of his bed with three more of the little booklets in his hands. “Where do you want to go?”

Dipper groans and presses the glossy paper to his face. “I don't knooooow.” he shakes his head, shifting to lean his elbows on his knees. “New Tech has one of the best video departments in the country, but Wyvern University actually has an accredited paranormal studies class. And then there's still a few good ones closer to home where it'd be easier to visit Mom and Dad.” he wrinkles his nose which causes his glasses to slip down. “Fighting Bill was easier than picking a college.”

Ford laughs, happy that enough time has passed that they can all joke about Bill. He's also happy that Dipper has so many options to choose from. Secretly he wishes his nephew would choose a more scientific route to major in, but the boy has developed a passion for making videos about the paranormal. He has a talent for it as well, at least from what Ford could gleam from his YouTube channel. Mabel had even given them a flash drive full of episodes so they could watch when the Stan O War II was unable to get reliable internet; Ford was rather fond of the small series of episodes they'd made the six weeks the kids had spent on the boat with them last summer. And truth be told, there was something poetic to his would-be protégé becoming a journalist.

He looks back on the ones on the desk and spots a few that have glitter on them. “What's your sister have to say about any of these?” he knew his niece was planning to go to college and the two still didn't like to be too far from each other for too long. How Ford had ever thought it would be a good idea so many years ago he'd never know.

“She thinks I should go to New Tech. There's an art school about fifteen minutes away that she's got her eye on. Really big on experimental fashion. So we wouldn't be far apart. Could see each other every week if we wanted.” when Ford looks back, Dipper's got a fond smile on his face. “Which I guess means the choice has been made.”

Ford is happy his niblings have each other; college was a hard beast to face alone. If Ford hadn't met Fiddleford, he's not sure if he would've made it on determination alone. He knows now that he needs someone to make sure he eats or sleeps with some regularity, as much as he still argues the contrary with Stan while they're at sea. Mabel will keep Dipper from getting too absorbed in his work and he'll keep her on task when she gets too distracted. They both have lives and friends outside of each other, would be terribly unhealthy if they didn't, but it was hard to find a better friend than a twin.

“There's a port not too far from there, less than an hour’s drive. Much less if I let Mabel drive.” Dipper speaks and they share a wince. Letting Stan teach her how to drive had been one of the worst decisions Ford had ever let happen. “You guys could visit us pretty easy.”

It's touching that his nephew would consider that. There had hardly been a school break or holiday that they hadn't seen their niblings, either in California or back in Gravity Falls. There were a few times when they had to go spend the holidays with their mother's side of the family, or Sherman claimed grandpa rights which apparently overruled twin rights. Ford knew those visits would grow sparser as the kids got older; it was to be expected as they took on more work towards their futures.

It's bittersweet, watching them grow up. He’d missed nearly thirteen years of it and the last four has flown by quicker than he would've thought possible. He understands Mabel's old desire to bubble time more and more with each year. He looks again at all the brochures that litter the desk, all the potential branching paths in his nephew's future, and feels something hot swell in his chest. “I'm very proud of you, Mason." He smiles at his nephew.

Dipper's face goes beet red and he tries to hide it behind the brochure for New Tech. “It's not like I've gotten _in_ to any of these schools yet. There's no—I mean, thank you but you don't have to say—ughhhh!”

“I'm proud of you for lots of reasons, my boy.” He has to laugh again and he stands so he can muss up his nephew's hair. The boy is almost too big for such a gesture but Ford figures he's got twelve years’ worth of overdue affection to spend. There’s the sound of tires squealing on the pavement outside followed by the slamming of car doors. Ford gestures towards the door that leads to the hallway. “Sounds like the Alphas are back.”

Dipper makes a face that wants to be a grimace but it's lost on a smile. He snatches the hat that Wendy gave him so long ago off his bed and uses it to smush his hair back down. “How much you wanna bet they're going to try to show us pictures of baby Stanley again?”

“I don't bet on the inevitable, Dipper. Well, unless Stan is there to rig the outcome differently.” But betting against Stan and Mabel showing off the newest baby photos Soos had sent was more foolish than thinking Bill was a friend. Stan was too proud and Mabel loved babies too much. “I will put a bag of jellybeans on Stan cracking first though.”

Dipper matches his grin. “You're on.”


	3. Paranoia

It was good to be back in Gravity Falls. Ford loved the sea, loved sailing it with his brother in the adventure of a lifetime and was looking forward to returning to their boat at the end of the summer, but Gravity Falls still felt like home. There was good memories and bad ones all over but he still loved the crazy town. Stanley did too; Ford suspected he missed being Mr. Mystery sometimes. He was sure Soos would be all too happy to let the original give a couple of tours while they were back.

The house had been modified since they'd signed the deed over to Soos. Stan's room was left untouched for the most part, sans what his brother had taken with him when they left, and the attic was likewise left bare for the twins. The room that had once been a lab before Stan had cleared it out for a museum of what turned out to be murderous wax figures had been converted into a bedroom for Soos’ grandmother. The room Ford had slept in last summer was now a bedroom as well, shared by Soos and his girlfriend. The couch had been moved into the basement room that had been a shrine to Bill, the various monitors replaced with a large TV, the tapestries with shelves upon shelves of those video discs that Ford couldn't remember the name of. It had been dubbed a “man cave” by the girlfriend.

Thankfully Ford's basement lab was more or less in one piece. Apparently Soos had scavenged a few things for his own projects but Ford was able to work around that. Stan had put a bed down there a long time ago, so that's where Ford would be sleeping for the next few months. He was excited to work in a stationary lab for a bit; he'd brought so many samples from the Stan O War II to study here. And Dipper was here to help him. As wonderful an assistant as Stan was, he didn't really share the level of joy at scientific discovery that his nephew did.

Speaking of his nephew, Ford hasn't seen the boy or his sister since the bus had dropped them off this morning. There'd been hugs and then everyone had been off to unpack. Ford feels a twinge in his gut and decides that seeing the kids is his number one priority at the moment.

Stan is in the gift shop when Ford steps out of the elevator and pushes the vending machine shut. Soos closed the Shack for the day so thankfully it's void of the obnoxious tourists that flock to hear outrageous stories. Stan’s looking at all the prices but keeps glaring at where the “no" has been crossed out on the “no refunds" sign. That will probably be an argument by the end of the week.

“Are the kids upstairs?” he asks instead of choosing to deal with his brother's money grubbing ways. He's learned to find such things like that or Stanley's insanely sticky fingers endearing over the last year. It was a survival requirement at this point.

Mention of the kids brings his twin out of his grump at least temporarily. He nods and jerks a thumb towards the stairs. “Dipper went out to visit Wendy, but Mabel just ran back upstairs with an armload of stuff from the kitchen. Wanna go make sure she's not eating pure sugar on our first day back? I'm too tired for that today.”

Ford hums and makes his way towards the stairs, bumping his shoulder to his brother's as he passes, just hard enough to make Stan stumble a step and shove him back with a gruff laugh that brings a grin to Ford's face. The opportunities to bug Stanley will be greatly reduced than when they're on the boat so Ford must take advantage of every small opportunity.

He expects to find Mabel seated among her multitude of stuffed animals, likely working on her new scrapbook while eating handfuls of sugar. What he finds instead is her pouring salt in a circle around her bed; Dipper's bed appears to have already been circled. There's also a...bag of oranges hanging in the window? Ford is confused. More so when he hears a crunch beneath his boot when he steps through the doorway, looking down to see yet more salt. “Um, sweetheart?”

Mabel lets out a startled little yelp and drops the salt container, sending more of it spilling across the floorboards. She scrambles to pick it up and hugs it to her chest, though she does smile wide for him. “Hey, Grunkle Ford! Wassup? Miss your favorite niece in the whole wide world? Understandable cause I'm great!”

“Of course I missed you, Mabel.” affection comes easy with Mabel, possibly because she just exudes it in waves. Ford's considered studying her to see if she was putting off some sort of aura or pheromone to make her so lovable but apparently running tests on family members is something “only a mad scientist would do" according to Stanley. The killjoy. He points to the salt in his great-niece’s hands. “What are you up to?”

Her cheeks go a bit rosier than normal and she moves the container behind her back, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout. She stares at the ground, moving her shoe to straighten a part of the salt line that was a little wonky. “Dipper thinks I'm being  _ silly _ . But I'm  _ not _ . Well, not about  _ this. _ ” She huffs and Ford has to stop himself from chuckling.

He moves to sit on the edge of Dipper’s bed, careful not to disturb the salt around it. Clearly it was important to the girl. “I can see that. Why don't you explain to me what you're doing? Maybe I can help Dipper understand how not silly it is?” he offers while patting the mattress next to him.

Her face shifts instantly back to the joy that he loves to see there and she nods. She runs over to where her suitcase is laying open in the corner of the room. After a bit of digging through what appears to be a small mountain of fabric, she lets out a victorious sound and runs over to where Ford is sitting, wielding a small book in her hands. He scoots a bit so she can seat herself next to him.

The book, once she has it propped open in her lap, seems to be a guide of some sorts. It's not a handwritten one like the journals he and Dipper have, but a printed, store bought one. She turns to a page marked with a bookmark that looks like a cat biting the paper and points to a section highlighted in bright pink. “Salt is supposed to protect against evil. If you make a circle then evil can't get in.”

Ford feels a small tug on his heart even while his brain corrects her. Salt is helpful against some entities, mostly slug and snail based ones. But the idea that Mabel thought she needed to protect her and her brother against evil...it clenches Ford's heart in a cold, steel trap. “Sweetheart, that's very nice that you're trying to protect your brother, but you know the barrier is still up, right?” that had been the first thing Ford had checked once he'd gotten back, his own fears bubbling up.

Mabel seems to shrink next to him which is the complete opposite effect he was wanting. She pulls her feet up on the bed and starts to tug the collar of her sweater over the bottom half of her face. “I know. I know there's the barrier and you've got your nerdy sci-fi gun and Grunkle Stan is really good at fighting and Dipper is really smart at coming up with plans and he said salt doesn't usually work but it's what the book said and I just wanna help keep everyone safe.” She rambles while continuing to disappear into her sweater. Ford has to press a hand to her shoulder to stop her from fully going to what he had been told was called Sweater Town. She slumps against his side. “Bill hurt everyone because of me last time so I wanna help.”

Ford feels another jab to his heart, another stab of regret because it was  _ his _ fault Bill was a problem in the first place. If he hadn't fallen for Bill's tricks in the first place…but Mabel didn't need his self-pity. “You're a very good person, Mabel.” he smiles softly, ruffling her hair affectionately while hugging her to his side. He nudges her until she looks up at him; another stab when he sees how red her eyes are. Still he smiles at her; Stanley taught him how important it is to smile for others. “What do you say you and I go make a big helping of Mabel Juice and then I can show you how to make a smoke bomb? Then you can use one with your grappling hook to escape with the family if anything happens.” a smoke bomb was safer than a crossbow, right? Eh, Stan would be fine with it. Probably.

Mabel's eyes go big and she practically explodes out of Sweater Town, Ford swears he hears a popping sound when she does. “Can it be a  _ glitter _ bomb? That's like a smoke bomb with pizzazz!” she grabs Ford's hand and begins tugging. “And it would go with my attack glitter!”

“We can certainly try.” he laughs, letting himself be pulled up. Well, that was easier than he thought. He spares a glance at the window, one last question coming to mind. “Uh, Mabel, about the oranges…?”

She looks over and shrugs. “The book said garlic but that smells worse than Dipper's socks so I figured oranges would work instead.”

Ford chooses not to point out the flaws in that. If it makes her feel better, so be it. He'll make sure to put some wards under the window later, just to be safe. The last thing he needs is something happening to his family. 


	4. Stan O War

It's a common fixture in his mindscape, even when he doesn't want it to be. Sometimes it'll be the broken down wreck they'd found in the cave, sometimes it's floating in the water with tattered sails where the stitches had burst. Once it had been finished, painted and gleaming in the sun with waves gently rocking it as it never had been in life. Ford never stood on it in his dreams, though sometimes he would see ghosts with his face aboard it.

Part of him aches to board it, to hear the familiar way the wood on the starboard side would groan if you stepped too hard, to smell the paint they'd used to mark its name. He wonders if the names they had carved on the inside of the hull were still there. If the snacks and bottles of water they'd stashed were there, if they could settle the churning of his stomach every time he saw the grave marker of their childhood. He should call him, make sure he's alright, it's been so long surely--

**_YOU'RE BEING SENTIMENTAL AGAIN, SIXER._ **

He knows. His dear friend is right, he's always right. He's lucky to have made the deal; Bill can always pull him away from foolish thoughts when they start creeping up on him now. He lets Bill burn the boat again and again until it's ash, never able to bring himself to do so, blinded by his foolish sentimentality. It's a distraction. Thoughts of him will always be a distraction. He needs to do better. He has important things to do, he can't keep letting himself be lead astray.

**_THERE'S ALWAYS THE GUN THAT YOUR FRIEND WITH THE BIG NOSE BUILT._ **

No. He doesn't want to _forget_ him. That would be very...upsetting, he believes. Thoughts of him are a distraction, a mistake, but there's lessons to be learned from mistakes. Even if it costs him time, he doesn't want to forget. There's motivation to be found in betrayal, in pain.

Laughter. **_CAN'T SAY I DISAGREE WITH THAT, SMART GUY._ **

He doesn't understand Bill; doubts he ever could. His friend is a being from another plane of reality, of course he wouldn't line up with what was ‘conventional’. He laughed at pain because he was incapable of experiencing it when not sharing a body; Ford tried not to be put off by that. His jokes could be seen as cruel but he meant no harm. He just needed someone to be his guide through humanity, which was no problem. They were partners, after all. They were going to change the world together.

He hates the sight of the boat more and more as time goes on, even if he can't bring himself to personally destroy it. Bill mocks the run down old ship and he laughs with him, even though it takes a great deal of effort. He learns to control his mindscape, watches it be a forest for a time, then his house, and finally his basement where his greatest work sits. But still the boat appears, less often now but still with a regularity. He doesn't know what it means, why it's there. He's cut himself off completely from that part of his life; why does his mind still torment him.

**_YOU STILL HAVE THE PICTURE, SIXER. YOU HAVEN'T LET GO._ **

Stop using that name, please. Bill wants to burn the picture that rests in his desk drawer, wants to destroy the film reels that his mother insisted he take when he moved here. He should. Burn everything tied to him, remove all the reminders of what happened. But he can't. His hand shakes so bad he drops the match when it gets too close to the glossy paper. He yells at Bill for the first time for offering to do it for him. Threatens to end their deal. Bill is irritated but doesn't push further. The photo is put in a drawer with a lock so he can't look at it, can't be distracted by it.

Still the boat appears. More and more as Fiddleford’s concerns start to dig under his skin. Bill doesn't like him but they need him. His friend is just anxious, that's all. They have the test coming up soon. Once they have it all finished, once they see it in action, he'll understand. They're going to change the world; they'll be famous. They'll be heroes. Once the work is done he'll reach out to his family, he'll show them what he's done.

Oh god what has he done?

He boards the boat for the first time when he succumbs to sleep at the hotel. He’s not sure why, but it's there as soon as he opens his eyes to the mindscape and he can't stop his feet. There are no ghosts tonight, but it's how he last remembers it. Patched and worn but well-loved. The boards groan where he remembers them to; their names are etched in the hull when he climbs down into it. It smells of salt and wood glue. The snacks are gone; he nearly laughs when he thinks that a certain someone ate them.

He lets himself feel safe in the poorly built hull, lets himself not think about anything for a short time. He has a plan. He's learned from the mistakes, the betrayal. He would let him prove his worth finally and then he'd stop the terrible things he'd started. But right now, right now he could rest. He could sit in the boat that he let Bill destroy countless times and rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one was really short cause I had next to no ideas for it so... yeah. Sorry.


End file.
